The Molly Files
by LizAMWriter
Summary: Molly writes letters to Sherlock, and keeps them on her laptop. She doesn't anticipate him or anyone else ever reading them. However, John Watson happens upon them one day when he borrows her laptop. Established Sherlock/John, first time Sherlock/Molly/John. Literary Tags: Slow burn, HEA, NSFW, M/M/F.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Molly Files

Author: LizAMWriter

Summary: Molly writes letters to Sherlock, and keeps them on her laptop. She doesn't anticipate him or anyone else ever reading them. However, John Watson happens upon them one day when he borrows her laptop. Established Sherlock/John, first time Sherlock/Molly/John.

Literary Tags: Slow burn, HEA, NSFW, M/M/F.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction using characters from the world of Sherlock BBC, which is owned by Steven Moffat and based on characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do not own Sherlock BBC, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson, or Dr. Molly Hooper. This story is a work of fiction and not intended to be part of the "official canon" of the series. The plot, such as it is, is mine. I am not making any money off of writing fanfiction, this story included. No copyright infringement is intended.

Rating: M overall due to the ménage subject matter, but most of the chapters are K+ or T.

Notes: I am not British, so please excuse any inconsistencies. I'd like to thank the person who inspired the actual letters, even though he will never know about them. Indeed, he would be quite embarrassed to have inspired fanfiction. My goal is to post two chapters a week until the story is complete, but we all know how RL gets in the way of writing fanfiction, so we'll see how long I can keep the schedule.

Letter One

 _I love you._

 _I know it's foolhardy to love someone as unattainable as you are to me. Some days, this love is all that is good and decent in my world. Other days, I wish I didn't care so much. I wish I could turn away when I see you coming…you leave me so broken it's hard to breathe._

 _Yet, here I sit, alone tonight and thinking of you. I'm imagining you in all your perfections and flaws. I wonder what it would be like to walk beside you in this life; to be the one you need and the one you turn to always. It causes me no small amount of heartache to admit that I'm not your type._

 _Images of you and him enter my mind: laughing, yelling, hurting, happy. It's variations on the same themes of life. When I think of you two together, I chastise myself yet again for wanting you. The truth is you are not mine to have. You were his from the very beginning, made for each other in a way I only understand because I've observed you that thoroughly. The cosmos ordained your joining with him long before you walked into my laboratory. You need one another the way the moon and the tide depend on each other. He drags from your depths all the insecurities and fears you claim not to have; lays them bare in the soft light of his love; and heals them in the long hours of the night. He keeps you human and compassionate._

 _Yes, Sherlock. You were made to love John Watson, and he was made to love you. This bittersweet reality socks me in the stomach at the most inconvenient of times – usually when you are standing close to me and I think if I were only a bit more brave I would touch you. Still, the more difficult truth to face is the fact that you will never need me like you need him._

 _Love can be so utterly painful. It walks hand-in-hand with melancholy and a vexing of spirit that is unsurpassed by other emotions. At least, that is what loving you is like for me. I pen these words knowing you will never see them. That brings me small comfort on this rainy, cold night. They say tomorrow will be brighter and sunnier._

 _We shall see._

John Watson stared at the computer screen. He knew he should not have opened the file within seconds of seeing the first words. His guilty conscious pricked at him when he read the letter through the first time. And yet, here he was, ten minutes later, re-reading the letter for the fourth time.

He asked to borrow Molly's laptop because he needed access to a few online medical journals, and she was already set up on the search engines. In her usual Molly way, she brightly agreed and turned the device on before leaving him to his task in the lab.

John found the file by accident; he clicked on the desktop link because he thought it would lead him to a word processing program. It did, but the page was not blank as he expected it to be. This file was filled with letters to someone, and it wasn't long before the astute doctor figured out who the pretty pathologist was writing about.

John ran his hands through his hair absentmindedly. He liked the petite woman well enough, but she always seemed so content to blend into the background that John eventually stopped noticing things about her. But now, staring at her private thoughts, John was glad for this insight. He sympathized with her a great deal, for he had loved Sherlock from afar for ages before The Night It All Started.

Hearing voices outside the lab, Watson took in Molly's words one final time before powering the laptop down. He was conflicted. As Sherlock's boyfriend, he should be appalled that someone else was showing interest in him – clearly Molly's feelings were more than simple attraction. As Molly's acquaintance and sometimes-friend, he well understood where she was coming from and wanted to give her some measure of comfort in her loneliness.

 _Well, well. That's an interesting thought, Dr. Watson_.

John was just putting the laptop into Molly's briefcase when the object of his thoughts walked into the lab. And, hard on her heels, was the object of both their thoughts.

John noticed Sherlock still wore his Belstaff and scarf, which could only mean he hadn't been at St. Bart's for long. He didn't meet John's gaze; instead he was hyper-focused on Molly. That meant he was hot on the trail of something and needed her expertise.

Molly threw a stack of files she'd been carrying – way to be polite and help a lady, Sherlock – on the nearest clean counter space before turning to face the consulting detective. He removed his coat and scarf with mechanical efficiency, but John's stomach tumbled at the beautiful body beneath the coat. He carefully watched Molly's face, noting her eyes roving over Sherlock's form and her breath speeding up.

Well, John decided, she could hardly be blamed. For a man who claimed he cared nothing for sex, he fairly oozed sex appeal. Molly's eyes widened as Sherlock stepped closer to her.

"Molly, do you think I could have a look at Jane Doe 10174?"

A flicker of annoyance passed over Molly's face before she said, "She's already been processed, Sherlock."

The detective simply grinned and stepped closer. Molly swallowed. He extended his hand to her shoulders and gave her a puppy-dog stare. "Please?"

John was fascinated by the exchange. He knew Molly would give in a second before her gaze fell to the floor and she mumbled, "Ok, come on."

At Sherlock's victory, he glanced up at John, and Watson's breath caught. The look on Sherlock's face was not one of intrigue, it was one of heat. Holmes' eyes betrayed the desire he felt.

After the pair left, John was left in the silence to wonder if said heat was for him or Molly.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Molly Files

Author: LizAMWriter

Summary: Molly writes letters to Sherlock, and keeps them on her laptop. She doesn't anticipate him or anyone else ever reading them. However, John Watson happens upon them one day when he borrows her laptop. Established Sherlock/John, first time Sherlock/Molly/John.

Literary Tags: Slow burn, HEA, NSFW, M/M/F.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction using characters from the world of Sherlock BBC, which is owned by Steven Moffat and based on characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do not own Sherlock BBC, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson, or Dr. Molly Hooper. This story is a work of fiction and not intended to be part of the "official canon" of the series. The plot, such as it is, is mine. I am not making any money off of writing fanfiction, this story included. No copyright infringement is intended.

Rating: M overall due to the ménage subject matter, but most of the chapters are K+ or T.

Letter Two

 _You kill me, Sherlock. This kills me. This arrangement we have to dance around one another. Sometimes I think I catch you watching me – when we're alone in the lab and it all of a sudden occurs to me that you are too quiet. I look up and you're just staring in my direction. I can't figure out if you're looking at me or_ through _me. Maybe it's both._

 _I can almost believe you see me as a woman sometimes. There's a small moment where I see a softness in you, and quick as lightening it's gone. The hard, calculating gaze is back, and you never fail to attempt a cutting remark. But still, your eyes give you away._

 _Does John see it, too, I wonder? How does he see you when you kiss him? Does he know you in a way I can't, beyond the obvious? Worst of all, do the moments I subscribe so much intimacy to mean anything to you at all?_

"I believe they do, Molly," John muttered knowingly. Several weeks after John first borrowed Molly's laptop and unwittingly found her epistles to Sherlock, Watson found himself in a similar position again.

This time, he wasted not a second, but clicked on the word processing program once Molly left the lab. Since initially reading Molly's letter, John had been observing the pathologist and his consulting detective carefully.

Sherlock did not go out of his way to come to St. Bart's but John could not deny the extra bounce in his step when the opportunity to see the pathologist came up. Presently, Sherlock was in the autopsy bay with Molly because he suspected poisoning of old Mrs. Monackett. Boring for Sherlock, tedious for Molly.

John read further into the file, amazed by Dr. Hooper's observations and the depth of her feelings. He still had no idea what to do about his discovery. After all, what did one do when one found oneself privy to the most intimate thoughts and emotions of a friend?

"I won't have the labs back for at least a week," Molly said as she entered the lab and shrugged out of her lab coat. John looked up, momentarily suspended in panic at being discovered, then surprised at Molly's attire.

She wasn't wearing her usual over-sized clothes. She had donned a pair of form-fitting trousers and knit, burgundy blouse with a cinched in waist.

John noted the appreciation in Sherlock's gaze as well, fleeting though it was. He wondered if he should be worried at how dispassionately he could observe this "dance," as Molly had described it. Watson surreptitiously closed out the word processing program and brought up the search engine web page just as Molly came around to his side of the lab counter.

"Getting some work done, then?" she asked as she grabbed a pair of gloves and three glass flasks.

John cleared his throat and nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes. It's good, thank you."

Molly's eyes narrowed for a second before she gave him a small smile. "Alright, I'm off to autopsy again. There's a printer down the hall if you need it. Just jump onto the network and search for it."

"I'm just doing a literature search, very general, but thank you. I've got my notes." John put his hand on a closed notebook which had been laying on the table.

"Ok," Molly said. She looked past John's head and up, and John became aware of Sherlock's presence behind him.

Sherlock put his hand on John's shoulder, and John instinctively leaned back into the detective's touch. Molly's face betrayed her longing as Watson watched her through hooded eyes.

It was rare for Sherlock to express any sentiment toward John in public, so he relished Sherlock's fingers kneading his shoulders gently.

Molly watched the two men for some minutes without speaking. She was confused by the intensity of Sherlock's eyes and the inquisitiveness in John's features. Finally, she decided she didn't really want to witness such a private exchange between the men, and she softly cleared her throat and averted her gaze before turning away.

"I really do have to get back to work," she muttered as she rearranged the flasks and attempted to grab another three chemical-filled bottles. She made it only two steps before one of the bottles slipped. Another one was right behind it.

In a second, and without any conscious planning on their respective parts, Sherlock and John moved to help. John grabbed the – thankfully plastic – chemical bottles just before they hit the floor while Sherlock grasped the bottles halfway out of Molly's arms. The effect of which was Sherlock and Molly became intertwined around the circular objects.

Molly stared at Sherlock for a second too long. The sparks between them were palpable. He was so close, all he had to do was lean down a little bit and he could be kissing her.

"Molly, love, give me a couple of those," John's voice quietly broke into the moment. Her grip tightened on two of the bottles but she relinquished the others to John. She blushed fiercely as she stuttered a "thank you."

"Where are you taking these?"

"Autopsy bay." She wouldn't look at him, but as John carried the supplies out of the lab, he was struck by how attractive an embarrassed Molly was.

SJMSJMSJMSJMSJMSJMSJM

Later, Holmes and Watson returned to Baker Street, and it was John's turn to be embarrassed.

"What were you really doing on Molly's laptop, John?" Sherlock watched him carefully from his chair.

John looked over his shoulder at the detective who never missed anything. The doctor was starting a fire in the fireplace. He debated about how honest he could be at the moment; he still wasn't sure what – if anything – he wanted to do about the letters. In the end, he settled for a half-truth. "I found some of Molly's personal projects. It was fascinating reading."

"A research project?" Holmes asked, raising an eyebrow.

John conceded, "In a manner of speaking."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes but decided to let the topic drop for now. After staring at John's backside he was in the mood for a more hands-on activity.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Molly Files

Author: LizAMWriter

Summary: Molly writes letters to Sherlock, and keeps them on her laptop. She doesn't anticipate him or anyone else ever reading them. However, John Watson happens upon them one day when he borrows her laptop. Established Sherlock/John, first time Sherlock/Molly/John.

Literary Tags: Slow burn, HEA, NSFW, M/M/F.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction using characters from the world of Sherlock BBC, which is owned by Steven Moffat and based on characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do not own Sherlock BBC, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson, or Dr. Molly Hooper. This story is a work of fiction and not intended to be part of the "official canon" of the series. The plot, such as it is, is mine. I am not making any money off of writing fanfiction, this story included. No copyright infringement is intended.

Rating: M overall due to the ménage subject matter, but most of the chapters are K+ or T.

Letter 3

 _Oh my word, the wink. It was so wonderfully intimate. My cheeks heated so, and I'm positive my fair skin showed the markings of the blush._

 _I was in the lab working on a tox-screen. Most of the time, my lab is a quiet sanctuary, a haven which envelopes me and gives me the confidence to make a difference in this world. That day, though, the lab was a bustle of activity. Medical students were following Mike Stamford around; two lab techs were hard at work on various assignments; and the day porters were trying to empty bins and sweep in the midst of the chaos._

 _All at once, a dynamic in the room shifted. Don't ask me how to explain it, but I knew you were close by. I looked up from my petri dish and saw you and John standing just inside the doorway. You were wearing a navy blue dress shirt and black trousers, which I could see since your Belstaff was open. John wore a sweater and a pair of khaki trousers, and he smiled at me easily. Your eyes took in the room as if you were examining puzzle pieces – no doubt trying to decide how to rid the room of the clutter of people. Eventually, your gaze settled on me, and your mouth turned up in the slightest smirk._

 _Then, you winked at me._

 _Maybe it was meant to be a greeting; maybe you had something in your eye. It happened so fast, I really can't be sure, even now. But as I sit here, thinking about that moment, I get butterflies in my stomach just reliving it._

 _Sherlock, I want very much for that second or two to have meant something. It felt as if the whole room fell away and it was just you and me. Your expression was so handsome and inviting. The small smirk you gave me almost convinced me that you meant to convey a message. Perhaps one that even goes beyond your usual "Hey, can I nick this body part or that lab test?"_

 _I'm your pathologist, it's true, but the wink makes me want to be your woman, too._

John slammed the laptop screen down when he heard Molly's agitated voice on the other side of the lab door. Unlike the day Molly relayed in her undelivered letter to Sherlock, he found himself in a laboratory devoid of human life, save himself. He was amazed at how remarkably trusting Molly was; she willingly handed over her most intimate secrets each time she let him borrow her computer.

John wondered how much longer he would be able to get away with roving through Molly's files. He also wondered what he would ultimately do with the information he had gleaned. To his knowledge, Sherlock neither suspected nor cared about what John was doing with Molly's laptop. Sometimes Watson was absolutely sure the consulting detective knew the depth of Molly's feelings.

Most of the time, though, Holmes was flirtatiously cruel with the young pathologist, and it was starting to piss John off.

His head snapped up when the door knob twisted and the wood door was pulled slightly ajar. John craned his neck to see who would come through. No one did, but he heard voices and came round the counter to hear better.

"It had to have been one of the students," Molly said, and John heard the tight control in her voice. His eyebrows came together in confusion.

"No, Ms. Hooper. Your Mr. Holmes ruined my experiment!" Watson thought he recognized the shrill voice of Meyers, an excitable young man with thick glasses, who usually left the lab the moment Sherlock entered it.

"Why don't you just talk to Stamford about his students? I'm sure if he reminds them to keep away from your work station, you'll not have this issue again." Molly sounded like she was trying to reason with a child.

Meyers proved her right by stomping his foot. John heard the dull _clack_ against the aged tile floor, and he inched forward until he could see Molly on the other side of the door. She stepped back so that when she reached around her back she could grab hold of the door handle.

Molly didn't like the look in the lab tech's eyes. She took another small step backwards, intending to enter the safety of her lab, when Meyers invaded her personal space before she could move further.

Their noses were almost touching and she could smell the mint of his gum when Meyers spoke. "You tell that boy toy of yours the next time he touches my equipment…"

Molly closed her eyes against the growl of his voice, took a deep breath, and was just about to let it out in a scream when she felt the door knob disappear from her fingers.

She stumbled back, reaching for the door jam, worrying she would fall.

Instead, she landed against a solid chest, and two arms encircled her. Molly smelled John's woodsy cologne and relaxed into him immediately. She had forgotten he was working in the lab – something about research for Sherlock.

"Molls, you alright?" he murmured in her ear. When he was satisfied her nod was genuine, he turned his attention to Meyers. He said, "Do we have a problem, mate?" John's hands moved to Molly's hips, keeping her close but also positioning her so he could move her quickly away from Meyers if necessary.

The lab tech gave John's hands a pointed look before sneering at the pathologist. "Just how many do you have round here? I didn't realize everyone was getting a piece of mousy Molly."

Molly's eyes stung with tears, and before she realized what was going on, John had turned her so she faced the inside of the lab. He gave her a gentle nudge before turning back to confront the sleazy tech.

Molly gripped the counter tightly while watching the heated exchange between John Watson and Meyers. John never hesitated, getting in the taller man's personal space.

"Ms. Hooper is a lady. More than that, an educated woman who has earned your courtesy, whether or not you like it. Ms. Hooper keeps company with geniuses, doctors, law enforcement, and the highest levels of British Intelligence know her name. Do you really think it wise taking all of us on, mate?"

Meyers said nothing, but his expression showed his hesitation and uncertainty.

"Get out of here. If I ever catch you bothering Ms. Hooper again, ruined experiments will be the least of your worries."

The tech swallowed and stumbled in his haste to vacate the hallway. John allowed himself a small smile before schooling his features and turning back to Molly. He wasn't sure what came over him; the idea of someone bullying their pathologist had him seeing red and he took action before he could consider the ramifications.

Molly's eyes were wide and she was breathing rapidly. John approached her slowly. He stopped when he was an arm's length away.

"Are you ok?"

She nodded, hugging herself. "Thank you, John." She tucked a wayward hair behind her ear.

John waved a dismissive hand. "No worries. I took on worse than that in the Army."

Molly rewarded him with a tentative smile. "Would you like to join me for lunch? It's the least I can do for my knight in shining armor."

Watson smiled back. "Sure."

Molly's hands shook as she removed her lab coat and hung it up. She was steadier when she grabbed her purse and stood in front of John again. She'd never considered John Watson to be anything other than Sherlock's friend – er, boyfriend. But after being in his arms, feeling his solid strength against her, she wondered what else she'd missed while being focused on Sherlock. _Oh Molly, how desperate you are_ , her critical voice was relentless and sounded like her least-favorite aunt.

 _Where are you?_ – SH

John looked at his phone after the text message chirped in. He answered back, _At Bart's. Going to lunch with Molly. Join us?_

 _No. On a case. I'll be late._ – SH

"Everything all right?" Molly asked, keeping her voice light. John's frown disappeared when he looked up at her.

"Fine. You're in luck: Sherlock is on a case. You have me all to yourself this afternoon."

Molly smiled and John tried not to stare at how the smile made her eyes glitter.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: The Molly Files

Author: LizAMWriter

Summary: Molly writes letters to Sherlock, and keeps them on her laptop. She doesn't anticipate him or anyone else ever reading them. However, John Watson happens upon them one day when he borrows her laptop. Established Sherlock/John, first time Sherlock/Molly/John.

Literary Tags: Slow burn, HEA, NSFW, M/M/F.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction using characters from the world of Sherlock BBC, which is owned by Steven Moffat and based on characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do not own Sherlock BBC, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson, or Dr. Molly Hooper. This story is a work of fiction and not intended to be part of the "official canon" of the series. The plot, such as it is, is mine. I am not making any money off of writing fanfiction, this story included. No copyright infringement is intended.

Rating: M for one naughty word and adult situations.

Notes: I made it four chapters without Sherlock and John giving us a glimpse of their…ahem, more intimate time together. Is that really bad self-control or really good self-control? ;)

Letter Four

 _It feels like ages since we've been in the lab together. You would think me horribly human for worrying about you, but since you've been back from the dead, I find myself worrying if I don't see you regularly. Of course, you have ran so many experiments over the course of my stint at Bart's that it wouldn't surprise me if you said you already had the answers to science's most problematic equations._

 _Sherlock, I miss you. I miss you quiet, boisterous, fired up, deeply thoughtful, sarcastic, and every other mood in between. The lab isn't the same without you coming and going all day long. And, of course, autopsies don't hold the same fascination when I can't watch you wielding your riding crop._

 _I suppose that was deeply inappropriate. Ta! Who will care? Toby certainly doesn't. Anyway, I guess I'm off to bed. Maybe the Sandman will give me a dream of you tonight as a reward for my good work in the lab today._

"Huh, that's interesting." John Watson's mouth turned up on its own. He remembered this stretch of time very well. Sherlock was called away for a case – a 9.5 he had exuberantly proclaimed – and was gone for two weeks. John had missed him; it wasn't too long after The Night It All Started and he wanted to be close to the consulting detective. John was somewhat ashamed that it never occurred to him to check on Molly. She clearly could have used the company.

The doctor debated about reading any further. He was trespassing into territory that he wasn't supposed to know about. Now, when he looked at Molly, he saw all the vulnerability she worked so hard to keep hidden. John wondered – not for the first time – if Sherlock saw it, too. The difference between the two men was John's instinct was to shield and Sherlock's inclination was to exploit Molly's feelings.

John snorted, closing the laptop and moving over to the petri dish he was supposed to be observing for Sherlock's latest case. Watson thought he and Sherlock were well-suited to one another: while they were working cases and when they could just be a couple at 221B Baker Street. Over the last few weeks, John was beginning to think they were complimentary enough to be well-suited to Molly Hooper. Those thoughts troubled him.

An interminable time later, Sherlock bull-dozed his way into the lab. John glanced up, a smile already on his face.

"What are you so happy about, Dr. Watson?" Sherlock's mouth quirked up and his eyes held a knowing gaze.

"I'm in love."

This response pulled Sherlock up short. He hastily removed his scarf and trench coat, then crossed to John's side of the lab. He used his height to cage John in against the counter.

"Oh? Pray tell, who is it that's managed to capture your interest?" The consulting detective leaned in and brushed his lips against Watson's cheek. The skin was bristly with the beginnings of a five-o-clock shadow.

John hadn't expected Sherlock to be so forward. He gave a nervous laugh and put his hands against Sherlock's chest. He lightly pushed, but Sherlock's mouth found his and then he was pulling the taller man closer to him.

"Open for me, John," Holmes murmured against John's lips. John obeyed, and lower parts of his anatomy started to respond to Sherlock as well.

 _We cannot do this here,_ John thought. _If Molly walks in…_

John realized he had gone rigid because Sherlock's hands stopped ghosting along his torso, and he broke their kiss to say, "No one's about, John."

The doctor groaned and plunged head-first into the sensations Sherlock was creating in him. John nibbled the detective's lower lip and moved to suckle the skin of his white-marble throat. Sherlock's cologne filled his nose and he breathed in deeply. Gawd, he really did love this man.

"Sherlock."

"John."

"Where's Molly?"

Sherlock pulled back to look at his lover. "Why?"

John closed his eyes in frustration. "Please, just tell me she isn't here."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed in a calculating look, but he shook his head. "She's not here."

Watson nodded and then wrapped his hand around the base of Holmes' neck, pulling him down to his hungry lips. This is what he loved about loving Sherlock Holmes: every aspect of it was so intense. He groaned when the detective's cool hands made their way beneath his sweater.

"Sherlock, we have to stop this."

Holmes' grin was mischievous. "Unacceptable. I. Want. To. Play. With. You," he punctuated every word with a kiss along John's neck.

John's hands tangled in Sherlock's dark curls. The detective sought out the tough peaks of his boyfriend's nipples. Watson's hands went to Sherlock's belt buckle. Looking up, he gave him an arch look.

Watson's favorite activity was making Sherlock lose control, and the quickest way to do that was to suck him off. John took a knee, deftly removed the belt, then made quick work of the zipper of Sherlock's trousers.

Sherlock ran his hands through John's hair as his organ was released from his trousers and boxers.

"Sherlock," John fisted his lover's length. He was rock hard, too, but ignored it in favor of giving Holmes pleasure. He was partly worried about being discovered like this, and only Sherlock would have him taking such risks and enjoying every minute of it. Watson ran his tongue along the underside of the hard organ. The detective's groan was all the encouragement he needed to take him in his mouth.

Watson licked, sucked, and stroked Sherlock until the detective gave himself over to pleasure. Holmes felt the orgasm start in the pit of his stomach, and he tightened his hold on John's hair in warning. His good doctor was never one to back down, and he concentrated and doubled his efforts.

"Ah, fuck, John," Sherlock tried not to draw attention to them by shouting, but the urgent voice came a split second before he did. John's warm and velvety mouth rode it out with him, until Sherlock's hips stopped thrusting and his grip on John's hair loosened.

John released Sherlock and leaned his head against his thigh. He was panting, trying to gain control over his own arousal. The tile floor was hard on his knees and John moved a bit and redistributed the weight on his knees. He reached down to his own arousal and palmed himself through his jeans.

"John, stand up."

Watson looked up, still holding himself, watching Sherlock right his clothing. He looked down at him first with tenderness, then with slight impatience.

"John, stand up _now._ "

Watson reached up to the counter, getting ready to heft himself up when he heard the voice right behind him.

"Sherlock, what was so damn important that it couldn't wait…oh, hi John. Oh, _oh._ I'm…um, sorry, I have to go. E-excuse me." Molly's quick steps scurried her out of the room.

John stood quickly, ignoring the joints popping, and turned to Sherlock with anger in his gaze. He shook off Holmes' hand on his shoulder.

"What the hell was that about?"

Sherlock grimaced, but did not reply. He didn't have an answer, but watched with detached curiosity as John bent over the table and ran his hands roughly through his hair in frustration.


End file.
